“All right, Tim. It ought to be worth something,” he insinuated, with a husky cough.
“That’s so. What’ll you take?”
“Whiskey,” answered Hooker, with a look of pleased anticipation.
“You’re a gentleman, Tim,” he said, as he gulped down the contents of a glass without winking.
Briggs, his dilapidated companion, had been looking on in thirsty envy.
“I’ll help Hooker to look for Dodger,” he said.
“Very well, Briggs.”
“Couldn’t you stand a glass for me, too, Tim?” asked Briggs, eagerly.
“No,” answered Bolton, irritably. “I’ve been at enough expense for that young rascal already.”
But the colonel noticed the pathetic look of disappointment on the face of Briggs, and he was stirred to compassion.